


The Only Two People in the World

by Find_a_Way



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, almost married smut, not really but at the very least some heavy petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 04:34:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Find_a_Way/pseuds/Find_a_Way
Summary: With the wedding delayed, Shelagh and Patrick find that they must make the most of their alone time.  I had a throwaway line in an earlier fic about Turnadette getting a little carried away in the car once, and Pellucid's comment prompted me to write this bit of fluffy nonsense. Unfortunately, I don't know how to tag her on a03.





	The Only Two People in the World

The London Hospital loomed large and silent in the London night, its rush of patients and visitors long over. No cars rushed along the busy street, and the ambulance entrance in the far back seemed a world away. 

Patrick Turner stepped from the building and held the door open for his fiancee. “It’s gotten chilly since I came in. The car’s just around the corner.” Their footsteps echoed against the buildings as they passed from streetlight to streetlight. 

“It always feels as if we’re the only two people in the world when we leave each night,” Shelagh said. 

Patrick clasped her hand against his forearm. “I like the sound of that. Every night, just you and me in the dark, the only two people in the world.” 

Shelagh stiffened and felt the blood rush to her cheeks. No, Shelagh, that’s not what he meant. Stop being so silly. She searched for words, but found none. 

“One day, I’ll take you home and it’ll be with me, not some boarding house. Your home will be with me.” He came to a stop at the car door, but did not reach for the handle. He craned his neck to meet her eyes. “Shelagh?”

She swallowed hard and met his look. Did he mean what she hoped he meant? For six weeks they had turned all of their energies to helping Tim recover with little thought to the wedding that had to be postponed. They worked together as parents, helping keep up his spirits, ensuring he had the best care. Romantic thoughts had been put to the side.

Timothy was recovering nicely now, and Shelagh wondered if the days of courtship were behind them. Would they simply ease into marriage and companionship? How much could she expect from a man that had been through so much? Perhaps that was all he wanted. He had, after all, fallen in love with a nun without expectation of physical intimacy. The feelings she had seen on his face on that misty road could have been simply surprised contentment. But, oh! How she wished for those days of breathlessness.

When she made no reply, Patrick stiffened, then stood back. “I reckon I should get you out of the cold.” A look of regret crossed his face and he opened the door to help her in to her seat.

The lightness to his step was gone as he passed around the bonnet, and Shelagh felt hope begin to glow. Patrick loved her as much as she loved him. Maybe they needed to remember that.

The car door creaked closed and Patrick settled into his seat. He sighed heavily, then reached into his jacket pocket for his cigarettes. They sat in silence as he placed one between his lips, then flicked the lighter. The rasp of metal against stone filled the car once, twice, then a third time with no success. Frustrated, he rubbed his forehead. “I’m sorry Shelagh, I should never have teased you like that. I’ve upset you, and I never meant to.” he sighed again. “I’ll take you home now.”

He made to light his cigarette one more time, but Shelagh’s hand moved to stop him. Without words, she took the lighter from his hand, then slipped the cigarette from between his lips. Placing them both on the dashboard, she turned to him and smiled. 

“I don’t want to go back to the boarding house, dearest. Not yet.” Her hand came to rest against his chest, bringing her body closer to him. There was little danger of things getting out of hand here in the car, she told herself. She needed to see if the spark was still there. She would have to be brave.

She let her fingers creep up the length of his tie, coming to rest at the top of his collar. His skin pulled tight there as he twisted his neck to watch her and she felt a rush of feeling. What would it feel like under her fingertips? Would it be smooth, or would she feel the beginnings of his coarse beard growing back. What would it feel like under her lips?

Without thinking, she moved even closer and pressed her lips against the place on his throat that so fascinated her. She felt his muscles clench in response and her hand moved behind his ears, holding him still. His skin was smooth just above the collar, but as she moved higher, she thrilled to feel the tiny bristles of his beard rasping against her lips. 

“Shelagh,” he choked her name. 

She raised her head to meet his eyes and smiled. “Patrick,” she whispered, then covered his lips with hers. The heat rose suddenly between them, and Shelagh knew she needed more. Sensitive to his slightest movement, she gave in to the demand of his lips and parted her own. She welcomed the velvet warmth of his tongue against hers, its slow caress stirring a heat she’d never felt before, and a small sigh of pleasure escaped her lungs.

Needing to be closer, she twisted her body awkwardly on the seat of the car. Her fingers twined in his hair, pulling him close still, but it was not enough. She pulled away with a frustrated huff and met his eyes. 

“This could get out of hand, Shelagh. I should take you home.”

He was right. They should go home now, before anything untoward occurred between them. All her life Shelagh had been the proper one, the rule follower, yet the instincts that had for so long told her to distance herself from trouble were now forgotten. The hot air and steamy windows spun a world of just the two of them, the outside world forgotten. She smiled knowingly.

A rush of air escaped his lungs as understanding dawned on him. He grinned crookedly, passion fogging his eyes, and he gave in to her unspoken promises. “Here, let me show you,” he whispered, his fingers gentle against her cheek. Leaning into her, he lowered her against the seat. He pressed light, nearly chaste kisses against her mouth, their very innocence an erotic invitation.

Shelagh sighed, and parted her lips. Her tongue darted out to coax his apart, light flicks along the edges of his sculpted lips and against the very tip of his tongue. His weight thrilled her, and she felt the heat begin to blaze hotter within her. It urged her on, her kisses eager and wet. Yes, she thought. Yes. 

Her arms pulled him even closer, her hands sliding over his back, but it wasn’t enough. She arched against him, offering the curve of her throat to his wandering lips. She could feel his hands heavy against her hip and felt a yearning for something more. His lips returned to hers in slow, intimate kisses. She slid her hands up along the long muscles of his back and threaded her fingers through his hair. 

His hand moved up from her hip and settled at her waist, his palm spread wide. She moaned softly. Please, the words she was afraid to say aloud whispered in her mind. Please don’t stop. I need you to touch me.

Patrick turned his attention to her throat, his mouth gentle in its exploration of the pulse pounding there. “God, Shelagh. I want you so much.” His hand moved over her midriff and paused for a moment just beneath her breast. Shelagh held her breath, worried he would move to touch her there, and terrified he would not. 

“I love you, Patrick,” she whispered. Whatever the outcome of this night, that would always be true. 

He looked up into her face and smiled his crooked smile. She danced her fingertips over his lips, then his lined cheeks and his smooth temples. Oh, how she loved the smooth, thin skin there. She kissed him, light tugging kisses on his lower lip, slow, tempting kisses that drew him deep into her mouth. His hand moved, cupping her breast against his palm and she gasped. Her back arched again, pushing her soft flesh against his hand, encouraging him to squeeze ever so gently. 

“Yes,” she urged. His fingers deftly undid the two buttons of her wool jacket and squeezed her breast again. She moaned again, the thin blouse and brassiere much less a barrier to him. Still she wanted more, and when he stroked his thumb across her taut nipple she felt as if she would be engulfed by the heat building within her. He squeezed again, this time not so gently, and Shelagh knew that in that moment, he could have her. 

He pulled away, breathing as if he had been in a race. “We have to stop, Shelagh.”

Her hands tugged his face closer. “No, we don’t Patrick. We don’t have to stop.”

He laughed and brushed his nose against the tip of hers. “I can’t tell you how much it means to hear you say that, my love. My body is about to explode from wanting you, and knowing you feel even a small fraction of that is...gratifying.” He pushed upright in his seat. “But when we do make love for the first time, it shouldn’t be in this old car.”

Shelagh sat up and leaned into his arms. “Perhaps you’re right Patrick.” Ever the practical spirit, she added, “I’m not sure it would be very comfortable, would it?”

Patrick reached for his cigarette and quickly lit it. “Probably not,” he chuckled. He took a long drag, then passed the cigarette to her.

Shelagh inhaled deeply, then let her breath out in a long, smooth billow of smoke. She shifted her body even closer to him. “Let’s just pretend we have our own little world for just a little longer, dearest.”


End file.
